Page 137 of Can You Take It?

Wilson’s face darkens. “This isn’t a request, Agent. It’s an order.”

Richard steps closer to Wilson. “With all due disrespect,sir, I don’t give a fuck. She’snota suspect; she’s a victim. And I’m not going to let you or anyone else treat her like she’s anything less.”

There’s a tense standoff. Wilson glares at Richard, but Richard doesn’t back down. Finally, Wilson sighs and looks at me. “Miss Montclair, when you’re ready, we have some questions.”

“I’ll answer when I’m ready.”

Hours later, after giving my statement, I’m in the car with Richard. I stare out the window, lost in thought. Dating an FBI agent has its perks. Like being able to get away with murder. Several murders.

“So, you’re going to interrogate my mother?”

Richard sighs, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ll have to. Along with Victor. We need her statement.”

I nod, feeling a pit of guilt in my stomach. “I drugged her, you know. Just to get her out of the basement. I feel like shit about it.”

Richard glances at me. “You did what you had to do to save her. Your mom’s fine, Izel. Luna’s taken it upon herself to look after her.”

I cringe at Luna’s name. “Great. I have to apologize to Luna too.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand.”

I nod, but before I can say anything else, my phone rings. Richard had retrieved it from Victor. I glance at the screen—Martin.

“Hey, Martin.”

“Izel, thank God. Are you okay?”.

“I’m fine,” I say, glancing at Richard. “Just dealing with everything. What’s going on?”

“The mansion is swarming with fed agents and cops,” Martin says. “They found the hidden room Victor had built in the basement.”

I take a deep breath. “How’s Grandma?”

“She’s... not great,” Martin admits. “But Mom’s here, looking after her.”

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” I say, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me. “Tell Grandma I love her, okay?”

“Of course. Just take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, I will.” I hang up and notice Richard’s jaw clenching.

“Something wrong?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Just Martin,” he mutters, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“Are you jealous?” I tease, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Maybe a little,” he admits, his tone begrudging. “I don’t like the idea of anyone else swooping in when you’re vulnerable.”

“You don’t need to be jealous, Richard. You’re the one I love. Martin’s just looking out for me.”

“I know,” he says, glancing at me sideways.

I raise an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

He hesitates, then says, “I may have read your chats with Martin.”

“You what? Richard, that’s so nosy!”

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